Smile
by orchids117
Summary: Being immortal with limited memory has its disadvantages. And while she may not remember much, Clara does remember this. "Run like hell, because you always have to. Laugh at everything, because it's always funny. Never be cruel. And never be cowardly. And if you ever are, always make amends." Now, at the end of her story, Clara knows its time to fulfill a very old promise.
**Disclaimer: all rights belong to the BBC.**

* * *

 **Smile.**

Being an immortal with limited memory had its disadvantages.

Clara Oswald doesn't remember much from the early years of her life. She can't recall the name of the planet she was from, who her friends and family used to be, or even—for a short time—her own name. But she does remember one thing. A box. A small blue box with the word Police written on the top. And while she can't remember anything or anyone from her time on Earth without the help of her journals, she can remember a man. A madman who could change his face.

She'd promised the Doctor she would never forget him, and true to her word, she never did.

She's lived a long life, one that was longer than she ever chose to remember. One that could go on for as long as she wanted it to, really. One where she could spend eternity fulfilling her childhood dream of traveling. And not just Earth. She could travel the stars until long after they'd turned to dust. And she did. She, Ashildr, and their TARDIS traveled the stars for eons after that final day with the Doctor.

But everything ends. She'd learned that long ago.

Ashildr is long gone by the time Clara comes to her own end. She traveled alone for far longer than she should have.

Clara pats the console as her ship lands with a groan. "I know, girl. It's almost time."

She turns to face the doors that lead out of the console room and pulls in a deep breath. She was never very good at goodbyes, but she has a promise to keep. And Clara Oswald always makes good on her promises.

She steps out into the main diner and quickly strides over to the front doors. She only hesitates for a moment before she yanks them open and marches out onto the street.

She wishes she could say that she remembered what happened this day; but she didn't. As she marches up the steps of the museum and uses her psychic paper to grant herself access to the under gallery, she wishes with all of her heart that she could say she remembers ever being here. But all she knows is historical fact and what she's written in her journals. This was the day that Gallifrey came back, and she was a part of that somehow. She just couldn't remember how.

The TARDIS is the first thing her eyes land on as she enters the room. The sight takes her breath away. She's seen the photos in her journals, but nothing compares to the genuine article. The old ship is beautiful.

"Clara?"

She tears her eyes away from the blue box to find a man staring at her. He's tall and skinny, and even while standing still he looks a little uncoordinated. He's got a mess of floppy dark hair over confused green eyes and a prominent chin. What makes her smile, though, is how he's dressed. He's clad in a purple tweed suit and matching bowtie.

Clara Oswald may not remember much of her early life, but she does remember him. Both versions of him. In vivid detail. She's taken measures to make sure she'd never forget.

She hasn't realized until now just how much she's missed the bowtie.

"I thought you went inside the TARDIS," he says.

"I did."

His eyes narrow as he stares at her, and she swallows as he pulls out his sonic and waves it from her head to her toes.

She raises her eyebrows as he glances at the readings. "It's still me," she reassures him, because she knows what the sonic is telling him. "I'm just a little older."

She watches his eyes widen before he slowly lowers the sonic to stare at her. "I'll say," he says—although his voice was barely above a whisper. "Clara…" He hesitantly takes a step closer to her. "Who did this to you?"

She shakes her head. "That's not why I'm here, Doctor. What's done is done. None of that can be helped now."

"But—"

" _No_ ," she says forcefully, and her tone makes him stop in his tracks. She's not the same woman that he knows. Her voice holds an authoritative note in it she could never have mastered when she knew him. She was too young then.

"Okay then," he says, and waves his hands before clapping them together. "Then why are you here?" His eyes flicker towards the TARDIS. "You know what could happen if she finds you."

"She won't," Clara assures him, and takes another step closer. "And after I'm gone, you won't even remember that I was ever here."

"Then why come at all?" he asks.

She chews on her bottom lip for a moment, and then sharply turns to walk around him towards the painting. "You said something to me once—oh, a long time ago now." She half smiles at that, and glances up at him. "You said; run like hell, because you always have to. Laugh at everything, because it's always funny." She stops in front of the painting and bites down on her lip before swiveling around to face him again. "Never by cruel, and never be cowardly." She walks back towards him, and stops close enough to touch him. "And if you ever are, always make amends."

His brow crinkles with what she easily recognizes as worry as he searches her face. "Clara?"

"I'm sorry," she whispers.

"For what?"

"I didn't smile."

"What?"

"When you asked me to," she says. "We were saying goodbye, and you asked me to smile. One last time, you said. I didn't smile. And I didn't say goodbye. I was too afraid to."

"I don't understand."

She takes his hand tightly, and although he's confused, the Doctor squeezes her hand back. She smiles at that. "It was cruel of me not to smile," she explains. "And I was too cowardly to give you a proper goodbye, so I'm giving you one now. One you'll remember when the timing is right."

His eyes flicker towards the TARDIS. "How long?"

She knows what he's asking, so she shakes her head. "I can't tell you that."

"But I could—"

She shakes her head again. "No, you can't." She lets out a small laugh. "Besides, once I'm gone you won't even remember I was ever here." She reaches up to cup her hand around his cheek. "Doctor, it's okay," she says. "I've lived a long life. A life that was far longer than it was ever supposed to be. Let me go out with a little dignity, yeah?"

He swallows, but nods.

She pulls in a deep breath. "Do one last thing for me?"

"Anything," he says.

"Smile for me," she pleads. "One last time."

He lets out a small, bitter chuckle, but complies with her request. His lips pull up into that boyish smile she hasn't seen for more years than she can count.

"Now close your eyes," she tells him, and he complies.

"Clara," he says.

"Yes?"

"When you go, I want you to do one last thing for me."

Her lips twitch upwards, and she swallows. "Anything."

"Run. Run, you clever girl." He briefly opens his eyes. "And remember me."

A lump forms in her throat as he closes his eyes again. She steps up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "Goodbye, Doctor," she murmurs before she pulls out the modified memory patch she purchased on New Earth and plants it firmly on his neck.

She waits until she feels his body relax to pull it off and lower him carefully to the floor. She smooths his hair back and fixes his bowtie before getting up and running for the exit.

She doesn't stop until she's back onboard her TARDIS.

She strokes the console lovingly as she starts up the flight sequence. "Alright," she says, and looks up at her console. "What do you say, old girl? Homeward bound are we?"

The ship chirps a tired affirmative.

Clara swallows as they land, and looks up at her console. "Thanks for everything," she says, and plants a kiss on the console.

Her TARDIS hums softly, and opens the doors for her.

She smiles towards the ceiling before stepping out to meet her end.

 _Fin._


End file.
